


An Empire

by NikauRifka



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Resisty AU, The Resisty AU I've been dying to write, ZADF, blatant references to Star Trek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-09-30 12:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikauRifka/pseuds/NikauRifka
Summary: Zims entire mission has been a fake. He's known for five years now, but that doesn't mean he has to accept it. While he wants nothing more than to be an invader again, not everyone is quite so free of the Irken Empire.(Or, Zim is revered, but not by who he'd expect)





	1. Pyramids of Mars

"What are you doing? It's three in the morning."

Zim startled at the sound of his nemesis' voice and whipped around to face him.

"Dib!" He exclaimed, pointing a feather duster at said human, "You're too late! I have already obtained your precious... Uh..." He paused, eyeing the item in his hand.

"It's a duster," Dib said unenthusiastically.

"Yes, that!" Zim snapped back to attention. "It is mine now and there is NOTHING you can do!" He cackled madly, clutching the feather duster in his claws.

"Quiet," Dib shushed, "Sheesh, do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?"

Zim blinked, then simply shrugged.

Dib sighed and rubbed his tired eyes behind his glasses. "Well, since you're here, want to watch a movie or something?"

"Will there be popcorn?" Zim asked slowly, suspiciously.

"There can be," Dib provided.

Zim hopped up onto the familiar red couch and settled down on it, leaving the feather duster forgotten on the floor. "Then yes," he said, hands politely folded in his lap.

Dib rolled his eyes and went off to make popcorn.

The past five years had been like this. Dib found it to be quite sad as the irken now spent his days doing pitiful "evil" tasks that mostly consisted of stealing things from the Membrane house that he claimed to be part of his "master plan". The truth was, Dib had been spying on him with one of his masterfully hidden cameras when Zim's leaders finally made contact after escaping the florpus (Dib had no idea _how _they'd escaped and was thus very glad to hear they had no intention of ever coming to Earth).

"I don't understand," Zim had trailed.

"We're BANISHING you," the one with the purple eyes said, very slowly, pronouncing every syllable like one would when addressing an idiot. Zim flinched.

"If you try anything like that again," the red one began, "If you try to bring us to Earth, or Earth to us, or, Irk, if you even try to CONTACT us again, you will be deactivated."

Zim's pink eyes went wide, his antennae twitching backwards. "_But, I-_"

"Do you understand _now,_ Zim?"

His face was blank, his eyes glazed over. He looked lifeless. Slowly, he reached over and cut the communication. He stood there for a moment, staring at the blank screen. Dib had never seen such a lack of emotion on the alien that he contemplated the thought that he had died just then.

Then, without preamble, Zim's PAK legs extended and he tore apart the blank screen in a sudden fit of rage, complete with ragged screams and hisses.

Dib worried for the fate of humanity, that Zim would channel this newfound anger into proving himself a successful invader. He was well aware that the irken could easily destroy the planet if he really tried. But Dib's fears were washed away as he watched the alien collapse in his own tears.

Dib quickly shut off the monitor. It wasn't right, he had thought, to watch him with his guard so low, to see him so vulnerable. He should have felt elated to know the threat was extinguished, instead he just felt awkward.

Now, five years later, the invader was sitting on his couch at 3:00 A.M. stuffing his face full of hot oily popcorn as The Martian played across the TV.

"I don't understand this," Zim announced, eyes narrowed, "Where are all of the pyramids? He's on Mars, isn't he?"

Dib looked over at his friend(?) quizzically. "There are no pyramids on Mars," he said.

"Have you ever _been _to Mars?" Zim countered.

"Well, no, but-"

"I've been to Mars," Zim said proudly, "I've _flown _Mars."

Dib simply pursed his lips and watched the movie.

"Maybe we can go to Mars sometime," Zim said after a beat.

Dib looked back over at the irken, but his eyes were trained on the TV.

* * *

GIR!!" Zim shouted as he shoved past the roboparents and into his base, "I have returned from another successful mission!"

"YAY!!" GIR cheered, jumping up and down on the couch in his dog suit.

"**Where's your useless household item this time?**" the computer jibed.

"Eh?" Zim looked down at his empty claws and his eyes went wide. "Um, I hid it!" He lied with an evil smile, "Yes! I hid it somewhere the Dib-Thing will never find it! Mwahahahaha!"

"**That's too bad, I was excited to see another piece of junk added to the pile.**"

Zim ignored the A.I. "With the Dib busy looking for his scaly stick-thingy, I will be free to conquer this useless piece of dirt without him getting in my way. Then I will prove to the Tallests that I-"

"But how they gonna know?" Gir asked, hopping off the couch and pulling down his hood.

"I will tell them, of course," Zim replied with a wave of his hand.

"But they said if you do that they're gonna kill you!" Gir exclaimed, running in circles wildly.

Zim glared down at his S.I.R. Unit and balled his fists. "I am sure when they see just how MASTERFULLY I have conquered this FILTH-PLANET, they will certainly change their mind."

"But they call you short-" Gir said with a frown, stopping in his tracks.

"SILENCE!!"

"**Are you going to work on your 'next evil plan' or are you going to go watch movies with your human friend?**" The computer said, holding in laughter in between words.

"How do you know about that?" Zim asked, appalled.

"**Because you tell me about it every time,**" the computer sighed.

"You LIE!!!" Zim shrieked, pointing upwards accusingly.

"**Whatever.**"

I'm gonna make waffles!" Gir screamed, scrambling towards the kitchen.

"Please don't put bees in them this time," Zim pleaded.

"But it make em taste all stingy!" Gir said, waving his arms.

"Exactly," Zim shivered. He could still hear the buzzing... "Welp, I'm gonna go work on my evil plans now," he said, stepping on the elevator. As it lowered, he added, "Seriously, Gir, no bees."

In the basement, he passed by the glass enclosure that had once contained three vortian children. He let them go years ago, or rather they escaped, as Zim would claim. It definitely wasn't because he felt bad, or that he owed it to an old friend... Definitely not that. But he didn't think about that now, could hardly even remember the sound of them ramming their budding horns up against the glass just for the fun of it, or their annoying songs of childhood glee, or how one of them sounded so much like their father, who had died years ago in an attempted escape of Moo-Ping 10...

Zim growled in frustration. He kicked an empty soda can across his lab, where it clattered against the wall, leaving a dent in the aluminum.

"**What's wrong? Can't think of a way to pretend to conquer a planet?**" the computer chimed.

"Shut up," Zim mumbled, his head drooping.

The computer sighed, long and dramatic. "I **say this with the best of intentions,**" the computer stopped as if it were taking a breath, then bellowed, "**STOP LYING TO YOURSELF.**"

"Excuse me?" Zim snapped, head jerking back up. He glared at nothing in particular.

"**You've been living in this shmoop for years now. You haven't had a single legitimate plan since your exile. You're not an invader, you're wasting your life away pretending that you are.**"

The computer expected him to scream and accuse him of lies. He expected a tantrum, as that was the typical reaction from Zim. Instead, the irken collapsed onto the nearest chair and stared up at the wire-strewn ceiling, expressionless.


	2. That's an Irken

“But sir, that's an irken," said an alien in confusion as they stared down at an image of said species.

"Do you not know _who_ that is?" Lard Nar exclaimed in disbelief.

"Um... An irken?"

Lard Nar put his palm to his face and dragged it downward.

"Set a course for Earth!" He commanded to the bridge.

"But, sir, who is it?" The same alien asked.

"Invader Zim," Lard Nar said with a smirk as the vortian starship blasted into subspace.

* * *

“Why is Kirk not in this one?" Zim shouted at Dib's television.

"Kirk's in the original series," Dib explained to the screeching alien.

"Why aren't we watching the original series?" He flailed with anger.

"We finished it. And all the movies."

"That was IT? You told me there were more series's!"

"There are. That's what this is."

"I don't like the bald human."

"But Captain Picard is the best captain!"

"He's ugly. He smells like old."

"Okay, Zim. You can't smell a TV show."

"Well I just did!"

Dib sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this argument. He picked up the remote and pointed it at the screen. "We don't have to watch it, you just seemed to like Star Trek so much that I-”

Zim grabbed the human by the arm before he could shut off the TV. "Wait! Who's that?" He asked as Riker came on-screen.

Dib smiled and lowered the remote as Zim once again became enraptured with the show.

"If you like Riker so much just wait til you meet Chakotay," Dib murmured.

"What is this Cha-ko-tay you speak of? Is it in this one?"

"He's in the next series."

"You mean I have to watch three seasons of this bald stink-man before I get to him?"

"Actually, Next Generation has like seven seasons."

"WHAT??"

"And a few movies."

Zim glowered at the screen. "Fine. I will watch this Earth garbage show, but only because you think that I like it, and because you like it, and because I like to confuse you with my feigned appreciation of Earth culture."

Dib looked down at the alien beside him. "Are you done?"

"Get me ice cream?”

* * *

Zim had left his base the moment he came out of the dazed stupor his computer had thrown him in, and as night fell closer he had no intentions of returning home. But when the Dib-Human started to yawn, Zim scowled at the inevitability.

"What's wrong?" Dib asked, noticing the irken' new gloomy disposition.

Zim sighed, overly dramatic, and huffed, "Nothing."

"Are you sure?" Dib pushed, "Cause it really seems like something's wrong."

"Why would I tell _you?_" Zim hissed.

"I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"Curse you and your pitiful attempt to be my friend! Zim needs no friends." He crossed his arms and sulked.

"Well, alright. I'm gonna go to bed, but if you change your mind-"

"Why does your PATHETIC human body have to SLEEP?" Zim snapped.

"What?”

“It means I have to go home and DEAL with things! Sometimes I don't want to have to deal with things! Did you ever think about that?"

_Oh_, Dib thought. "You can stay here if you want."

"No, Dib, I can't."

Dib watched in confusion as the former invader hopped off his couch and opened the front door.

"Really, dad doesn't mind. He likes you, even though you tried to kill him. Then again he still thinks that was all a hallucination."

"I've got things to do, Dib!" Zim growled.

"Okay, that's fine, I just-"

"Stop trying to convince me OTHERWISE!" With that, he scrambled out into the night air, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I wasn't...?" Dib said to the closed door.


	3. The Resisty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the nearly instantaneous support, I've never gotten so many comments in one hour!! Probably the last update for today, but who knows with my kind of inspiration. Anyways enjoy!

Midnight snuck up outside, but Dib couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his sheets, but despite his bodily exhaustion, a certain angry green boy took precedence in his mind. It wasn't necessarily that he was worried about Zim - he had been dealing with this behavior for years now - but he had developed a sort of sympathy for the alien, even, dare he say, compassion. He just wished Zim would understand that. He didn't want him strapped to a dissection table anymore, as fascinating as that would be. He wasn't a danger to Earth anymore. Dib just wanted him to be alright _and _not be a danger to Earth, but those things, Dib was finding, were apparently mutually exclusive.

A noise erupted from outside. Dib jumped out of bed and rushed to his window. Before he could look out however, his computer screen lit up and bellowed out a sound not dislike a phone ringing.

Cautiously, Dib stepped towards the moniter and clicked the little green answer call button.

The screen shifted to show a row of shadowy figures hovering around the screen, nothing but their eyes and outlines aglow.

"Irken defect," the middle shadow boomed, "We are here to take you aboard our ship and-"

"You mean Zim?" Dib interrupted the obvious disguised voice with his head cocked to the side.

The shadows illuminated suddenly to show a row of aliens Dib had never seen before holding cardboard cutouts of stalky figures, crowded behind a small, gray, horned alien in a chair that made Dib think of the captain chairs on Star Trek.

"You're not Zim?" He stated more than asked.

"No. He lives down the street."

"Damnit! I told you-" The alien growled at the beings surrounding him. "Our sensors picked up irken biology in this location, along with an irken ship," the alien explained.

"Well he was here a few hours ago, and that ship isn't Zim's." He didn't explain his possession of Tak's ship into any further detail. Luckily, the didn't ask him to.

"Do you think you could, uh," the horned alien asked nervously, "Point us over to his base? It would really be helpful."

"That depends," Dib's eyes narrowed, "Want to tell me what you want with him?”

* * *

“Gir, these waffles are horrendous," Zim said simply as he continued to eat them.

"Yaaaah!" Gir agreed, plopping another plate-full of them on the table.

"You know I'm not gonna eat all of these like last time, right?"

"No," Gir said blankly.

Zim sighed, resting his head in his hand, elbow propped up on the table as he shoveled waffles into his mouth. There were no bees this time, at least.

"**Intruder detected,**" the computer announced.

"I thought I shut you off," Zim said with a grimace.

"**Intruder detected,**" it repeated.

"It's fine, it's probably just the Dib come to get his things back," Zim waved it off.

"**Intruder _detected_,**" it insisted.

“Would you shut up?" Zim hissed.

"**Fine. If you don't want my help, I'll just shut myself off then. I shouldn't even tell you that there's a vortian ship hovering right above the base, should I?**" The computer shut off with a staticky click. Zim continued to mindlessly eat waffles.

Until a hooded figure dropped down on top of him and shoved a needle in his neck.

"Get off of me!" the irken shouted, struggling beneath the unseen foe, "GIR!!"

Gir offered the intruder waffles. When they politely declined, he skipped off to watch TV.

Zim was halfway through a growl before he was knocked out cold.

* * *

He woke up strapped tightly to a chair, surrounded by shadowed gray walls and distantly familiar technology.

'_This is nothing like Star Trek,_' was his first coherent thought. He shook that out of his head and replaced it with searing blind panic.

He struggled against his bonds and shouted into the empty room, "Who DARES try to contain the mighty power of ZIM??!"

In response to his shouting, a door slid open and in stepped a shadowed figure.

"RELEASE ME!!" Zim shrieked at the figure, "Or you will be SORRY!"

A gellaxis hovered into the room, tentacles crossed beneath a steely eyed glare, sending a new wave of panic to wash over the irken.

"Are you sending me to Moo-Ping 10? I DID NOTHING!!" He hissed at the alien, antennae sticking straight up in alarm, "You can prove NOTHING!"

A shorter figure appeared in the doorway. As the figure scampered into the room a taller silhouette replaced his prior position, but stayed by the doorway.

The short figure turned out to be a vortian, which, considering his surroundings, Zim was not shocked by.

"RELEASE ME!!!" He reiterated for the new audience, spending the small movements he had to flail.

"Shmorpzilion, why is he tied to a chair? He is an honored guest!" The vortian chastised the malicious-looking gellaxis, "Do you even realize who- Ugh. I am so sorry about this, really. We tried to make a good impression, but you know how that always turns out."

Zim blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

"Human!" The vortian said, getting Zim's instant attention, "Sorry, sorry, what's your name?"

The third figure entered the room, and Zim's mouth fell agape as more puzzle pieces were introduced but some of them were red and some were glow-in-the-dark and none of them fit together into any coherent picture.

"That's alright, it's Dib," the third figure said as he untied the irken's bindings.

"What the HELL Dib-Stink?" Zim hissed, jumping up to stand on his chair the instant his arms were freed.

Dib just shrugged, and the vortian replied in a tourist-guide-like voice, "My name is Lard Nar, welcome to the Resisty.”


	4. Almighty Shortest

Zim's cackles echoed off of the bare gray walls and he wheezed out the word 'Resisty' like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

"You call yourself the _Resisty_?" He asked, wiping away tears, "That is the dumbest name I've ever heard!" He laughed until he was doubled over, clutching his squeedlyspooch with the strain of it.

"Laugh all you want," Lard Nar said, unfazed, "We're still going to _destroy_ the Irken Empire." The little vortian clutched his fists on the emphasis.

"Wait what?" Zim's laughter came to a sudden halt, causing him to sputter and cough. "I'm sorry, did you say *destroy* the *Irken* Empire?" One word appeared in his mind, in big bold Irken script, and it was _protect_.

"Yes, I did," Lard Nar said with a confident nod.

"You can't destroy the Irken Empire, it's the biggest, most powerful empire in the known universe," Zim explained nervously, unsure of what these people - and Dib - wanted with him.

"Not anymore," Lard Nar corrected, "After most of the Armada was destroyed in that space rift of yours, The Resisty had a chance to grow. With Impending Doom II at a sudden standstill, we were able to recruit many of the inhabitants of planets that would have otherwise been destroyed."

That same word flashed again, more insistently.

"You mean to tell me," Zim giggled, the very idea that anything could rival Irk a direct offense to everything he was, "That your _Resisty_ is bigger than the Irken Empire?"

"Well, no," the vortian admitted, "But we're still pretty big."

"Ok_aaay_," Zim said, holding out the vowel in disbelief. His PAK tried to reiterate that word, but Zim pushed it down. Deleted it. Purged it before it could take him over. Not again, he wouldn't let it. He deleted it again. He deleted the memory of deleting it.

"So then WHAT THE EARTHEN HELL DO YOU WANT WITH _ME_??" He shrieked after seizing back his mind.

"We'll, uh, we'll talk about that," Lard Nar said nervously, "Human...?" He directed the last part at Dib.

"Dib," the human provided, who had been standing silently in the background the entire time, something Zim found to be very out-of-character for his nemesis.

"Yes, Dib," he waved his hand in apology, "Get him settled in, then we'll meet on the bridge."

"Yes, Sir," Dib agreed. Zim stared at him with wide eyes. His PAK stayed quiet for now.

The instant Lard Nar and his gellaxis bodyguard exited the room, the Irken sprung.

"What the FUCK kind of trick is this, _Dib_?" He grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him down to eye-level as he stood on the wobbly chair, spatting his name like a curse.

"I should never have taught you Earth swears," Dib groaned, pushing the Irken off him and smoothing out his jacket.

"Look," Dib sighed, "I think this could be good for you." He shrinked backwards at Zim's glare. "You can get out all that pent-up anger you've got towards you former leaders and-"

"CURRENT leaders, Dib-Thing. CUR-RENT. Have you forgotten that I am an IRKEN SOLDIER?," Zim screamed, "An IRKEN. SOLDIER. I am what they're fighting! What you're asking for is mutiny! MUTINY, DIB!" He grabbed ahold of Dib's sleeve and shook it for emphasis.

Dib frowned. "They banished you," he said in a small voice.

A pulse ran up Zim's spine. He froze. The Tallests betrayed him. They'd lied to him, they'd made a joke out of him, they- Something like an error message grabbed at those thoughts. But, no, he needed those ones. He deleted the error. He shrouded the rest. He deleted doing this. He temporary forgot his leaders' crimes.

"They love me. I am the greatest invader of all time," he declared.

Dib ran out of arguments, as usual - well, arguments that the alien would listen to that is.

"Let's just go to the bridge," he said, "Then you can make up your mind."

"My answer will still be the same," Zim said, but he walked into the hallway regardless, claws still grasping the human's sleeve.

When the doors slid open to admit the smallest irken anyone had ever seen alongside a much taller, much lesser known species, the entire bridge, which was enormous and stuffed full of creatures of all kinds, went instantly silent as all eyes and vision sensors landed on the pair. More specifically, on Zim.

"Um," Zim tugged nervously on Dib's sleeve before promptly dropping it to give the crew a small, meager wave. "Hi."

Zim tensed and prepared himself for a full attack from a hundred oppressed and angry aliens, but he was much more startled when all of the angry glaring faces flipped to expressions of hope and glee as the entire mass started cheering his name.

Zim flinched backwards and stared wide eyed at his newfound fans as Dib nudged him further into the room. An ecstatic Lard Nar bounded down a row of stairs to guide the shocked irken onto the raised platform.

It didn't make sense. They were mostly all species of planets under irken control. It would make no logical sense for them to have any adoration for any member of the species that ruthlessly controls them unless- the loose thread was deleted before it could unravel any further. Zim shook his head to clear away his confusion, and turned to blindly embrace the adoration.

"Why yes, thank you, I am the best," Zim announced as the vortian captain shushed his crew.

Lard Nar cleared his throat, blinked, then cleared it again.

"ZIM!" He shouted, gesturing towards said irken. The bridge went wild. Zim drank it all in.

"This tiny irken singlehandedly put a stop to not only Impending Doom I, but also Impending Doom II," Lard Nar declared. Zim tossed him a funny look. Lard Nar continued, "Not to mention he destroyed most of The Armada and weakened it's defenses!"

"I did _what_?" Zim screeched, eyes wide in horror. Had he really done all those things? The crew hoorayed.

The speech went on. "This defective irken not only escaped execution by The Empire, but corrupted their Control Brains as well, causing a massive, 10-year panic throughout all of Irk." Lard Nar grabbed his wrist and lifted his arm up like he was declaring a champion.

"I didn't-" Zim protested quietly, his antennae lying flat against his head. His PAK screeched error after error.

"He turned against his own people, his own, vile, cruel, _sadistic_ people, and gave us this fighting chance. He gave _you_ a fighting chance!"

Zim looked on at the roaring crowd in fear. The word mutiny aggressively clouded his thoughts, sending a spark of pain up his spine. He deleted thought after thought in a hazy panic, but the feeling remained. Betrayal. He had betrayed- No, it was lies. Yes, _lies_! He hadn't done those things. There was no way he could have done those things! The only way to possibly explain this was with the lies of these filthy rebels. He felt emotion well up inside of him as the errors and shockwaves finally subsided, and he stood there unmoving as the rebels sang his praise. He glared out at them, at the filthy, filthy rebels.

Lard Nar's speech continued, but Zim didn't stick around to hear it. He raced off the platform and slipped off the bridge unnoticed.

He skidded down the hallway, looking left and right frantically when the corridor split, until he just huffed and picked a random direction. He came to a small, derelict room full of cleaning supplies and decided it a worthy area to pace.

"I didn't do those things," he snarled, knocking over an empty bucket with the toe of his boot. "I'm an invader, an INCREDIBLE IRKEN SOLDIER!"

He squealed in anger and kicked the bucket across the room. It hit the wall with a crash, too loud, not loud enough. His head was filled with other noises: The sound of memories being erased. The sound of memories he couldn't erase... He marched over and kicked it again.

"They-" he huffed, "They don't know what they're talking about!"

And what did he mean erased anyway? He hadn't erased anything.

"Zim...?"

The irken spun at the sound of his own name. The figure that stood in the doorway was, well, he was _alive_.

"Sev-" Zim began, out of breath, his eyes narrowed to tired red slits.

The vortian entered the room cautiously and approached the angry invader.

"Prisoner 777?" Zim shouted, "You died!"

"In a way, I guess," he shrugged, "Please, just call me Seven."

"You're dead!" Zim repeated, pointing, "I knew it! This is a trick! A test from the Almighty Tallests, trying to see if I would betray them! Well I won't! Ha! I win!" He held up his arms in triumph.

"Zim," the allegedly deceased vortian sighed.

"I win...?" He repeated, looking around as if expecting the walls to melt away to reveal he had been on the Massive the entire time.

Seven looked at him sadly.

"You're really alive?" Zim asked cautiously, fiddling with his gloved claws.

"I think so," Seven shrugged.

The irken slowly trekked across the storage room until he stood directly in front of him. Then Zim looked away nervously and glared at where the colorless wall met the cold floor.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought.

_Error,_ His PAK beeped, _irken invaders do not feel remorse._

The error was deleted.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

The vortian snorted, then silently wrapped his arms around the other in a one-sided hug.

Zim's eyes went wide. He looked up at Seven as the vortian pulled away.

"What was that for?" He asked.

Seven shrugged. "It just seemed like you needed it."


	5. Sucrose

"I can't wear these!!" Zim shouted on a frequency so high it was unknown to man, causing his human companion to cover his ears and wince in pain.

"Are they too big?" Dib asked, approaching the alien.

"There's nowhere to put my hallux!!" Zim growled, tossing the metal boot across the room.

"You're -" Dib ducked on instinct as the shoe went flying over his head, "What now?"

"My hallux?" Zim repeated expectantly.

Dib looked at him blankly. Zim sighed.

"My back talon?"

"You have a back talon?" Dib's eyebrows shot up with curiosity, "Can I see it?"

"No!" Zim snarled, shoving the human aside, "Why can't I just wear my own boots?"

"Because they're a part of your invader uniform," Seven said softly, "If you dress like an invader, these people are going to feel uncomfortable around you."

"Good!" Zim snarled.

"They're suppose to look up to you," Seven continued, closing his eyes, "You're suppose to give them hope, and spirit, and a reason to fight."

"This is dumb." Zim crossed his arms.

"It's not too late to go back home," Dib reminded.

Seven agreed, "If you're not comfortable with this, you don't ha-"

"I want to go back," Zim said with sudden finality.

Dib and Seven exchanged disappointed glances. "I'll go let Lard Nar know," the human sighed, standing up.

He turned and started for the door, when familiar claws grabbed ahold of his sleeve and stopped him in his tracks.

"You didn't let me finish, idiot," Zim growled, "I want to go back and get Gir, and then we can go liberate the universe or whatever."

"You really want to do this?" Dib asked, just to be sure.

"I'm still wearing my boots and gloves," Zim determined, whipping around to point at the vortian.

"We can work around that," Seven allowed, to which Zim huffed.

"And you're not putting your stupid 'resist or don't' logo on my PAK. Or anywhere else on my body for that matter!"

"I never-" Seven started.

"But you were thinking it!" Zim pointed an accusing finger.

The vortian held up his hands in surrender.

"And I want something purple," Zim threw out the extra detail about his new wardrobe as he followed Dib into the hallway, "If you're going to make me dress like a filthy rebel, I at least want to look _good_."

* * *

"Man, this is so exciting," Dib rambled as he stuffed a dark blue duffel bag full of his most important belongings, "We're gonna be, like, rebels. Like in Star Wars!"

"Star _Wars_?" Zim asked with a scoff, waiting by the human's bedroom door as he impatiently tapped his foot. Gir ran excited circles around his feet as Minimoose repeatedly rammed itself into the same wall. "Hardly. The Irken Empire will level these dull-headed rebels in a matter of seconds. I don't know why I'm even agreeing to this suicide."

Dib stared at him blankly. "No, Star Wars is a movie. A series of movies, actually."

"And you never told me?!" Zim hissed, betrayed.

"Eh, I've always been more of a trekky," Dib shrugged as he attempted to zip up his overstuffed bag.

Zim ignored the statement. He looked out Dib's porthole window and out across the night streets. Was he really doing this? Just giving up?

_You've already given up, _he reminded himself. The thought took form as data in his PAK. It deleted itself. He thought it again, and again it vanished. He didn't need it, his old programming told him, he couldn't afford to give up.

A wad of thick black fabric pelted him in the chest, tearing him violently from his thoughts. He held it up, unraveling it to reveal a hoodie, child sized. He shot Dib a questioning glance.

"Space is cold," Dib shrugged.

"You IDIOT! I have spent more time in space than you can even BEGIN to comprehend! I have-"

The door slammed open, revealing an angered teenager with purple hair. "It's four in the fucking morning!" Gaz shouted, "Keep it down."

Zim stuck his tongue out at her as he pulled the sweater over his head.

She opened a curious eye, lingering on the undisguised Zim. Then she spotted her brother's duffel bag. "Are you leaving?" She asked.

"Uh, look, Gaz," Dib started, unsure of how to explain-

"We're going to space to kill ourselves in the futile act of rebellion," Zim filled her in excitedly.

"You're joining a space rebellion?" Gaz asked with interest.

Dib mentally prepared a speech about the torrent of dangers they would surely face, and how he might never come back home, but his sister cut him off with a surprisingly chipper, "I wanna come."

* * *

"I sure hope they have bathrooms on this ship," Dib announced out of nowhere once they were back on the Resisty ship, Gir skipping gleefully beside them and Minimoose clutched protectively in Zim's arms, who was still clad in Dib's old black hoody that Dib had long since grown out of.

"I am sure your waste expelling needs will be met. You're not the only species that does that," Zim waved his hand as if to dispel the concern.

Gaz had long since abandoned them to explore the ship. This was maybe the longest Dib had ever seen his sister go without her nose stuck in some game.

"But what if the toilets are, like, weird?" He threw the duffel bag over his shoulder and flexed his fingers that ached from carrying it.

"Your waste bowls are nothing special, human," Zim hissed.

"What are irken toilets like?" Dib asked, causing the irken to raise an eyebrow.

"Irkens do not expel of waste. That is disgusting and primitive," he shuttered at the very thought.

Dib came to a sudden halt. "Wait, wait, okay," he began, "What does your body _do_ with waste then?"

"We don't _have_ waste, I thought I was making that clear," Zim begrudgingly stopped as well. Gir went right along, ignoring the two completely.

"You mean to tell me your body uses EVERYTHING that you consume?" Dib asked in disbelief, "What do irkens even eat? I mean when they're not on Earth."

"Well our bodies only need sucrose," Zim stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you realize how much that _doesn't_ make sense with everything else you said?" Dib asked.

"Do you realize how stupid you are?" Zim bantered halfheartedly.

"If that's the only substance your body needs, then something has to happen to the waste," Dib explained, confused. He had seen the irken ingest things other than pure sucrose.

"I don't think that's how science works, Dib," Zim responded, hardly paying attention.

"You've eaten popcorn! Popcorn doesn't have any sugar-" Dib explained in frustration.

"Zim!" A cheerful voice rang out from behind them.

Zim turned around with a bored look on his face, that quickly dissipated when he saw who was calling his name.

"SKOODGE?" Zim shrieked, suddenly paying attention again. Minimoose absentmindedly floated out of his arms. He was overflowed with emotions. He sent them to the furthest reaches of his PAK to die. "I thought you DIED!"

"No, that was me," Seven reminded from the background.

"Oh, right," Zim said, "Well how are you?"

"I'm great! Ever since I-" Skoodge began excitedly.

"Eh, I really don't care," Zim said, waving him off.

"You don't want to know why I suddenly vanished after living in your basement?" Skoodge asked, well use to Zim's single-tracked mind. He didn't mind. He never minded.

"You were fed up with how Irk treated you because of your size despite all of your accomplishments so you sought out the resistance and decided to join them to get back at the Irken Empire for decades of abuse?" Zim asked.

"No, but honestly that sounds like a much cooler backstory," Skoodge replied.  
  
"Indeed it is, my fellow soldier," Zim said with his chin raised and hands clasped behind his back. "Come, Dib-Human," He said as he walked on to his new quarters.

The stubby irken watched them go with a dejected frown.

"Oh, and you can come too, Skoodge," Zim added, to which Skoodge squealed silently and happily ran to catch up.


	6. Your Bugs Don't Have Veins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote [another iz fic!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853491/chapters/49570646) This is called self-advertising!

Zim held his chin high and proud as he stepped out from behind the curtain in his new 'rebel clothes', as he liked to call them. He still had his boots and his gloves, and his PAK was still the same and clearly visible upon his back, but he now wore a long black jacket that came down just below his knees over a plain shirt in an eery, almost glowing shade of pink. Dib cracked a smile and pretended he wasn't laughing.

The irken's face fell at his friend's snickers. "What is so funny, Earthworm? Huh??" It was then that he noticed the human's almost identical jacket, and his face turned into a scowl.

"You're just jealous because I look better than you do in it," Zim said, snout upturned and hands clasped behind his back.

"You guys are twinsies!" Gir squealed with delight.

The irken ignored his robot and looked himself over fondly in the mirror. He wondered what the Tallests would say if they could see him. What would the other invaders have to say? He would hear what they had to say and then he would destroy them. He would- his antennae twitched as a familiar feeling shot up his spine. _He_ was an irken soldier. He was a _loyal_ irken soldier, who would sooner die than-

"It's not purple, like you asked," Skoodge apologized, wringing his fingers together, "But Seven thought you would like it. It looks good on you."

"Indeed it does," Zim nodded at his reflection, the sensation gone and erased from his memory banks. He turned rapidly to Dib. "Human!" He snapped, pointing, "What about _your_ rebel clothes? Obviously you can't wear the same thing as the amazing Zim."

"Yeah, yeah, you're lucky I don't wear the same thing everyday anymore," Dib quipped as he tossed his own jacket off.

A bleeping sound rang out in the room, and everyone looked towards Skoodge. He fiddled with a device attached to his wrist, antennae perking up as he read the message.

"I've gotta run," he said, "Ship maintenance. I've got a post down in engineering I've got to man. See you guys later!" He left with a wave.

"BYEBYE JEANETTE!" Gir shouted a good thirty seconds after the doors had already closed behind the stubby irken.

"Well," Dib started, "Are you ready for this?"

Zim scratched his chin and smirked at the human.  


* * *

"This is a disgrace," Zim spat after an hour of rambling about how incredible and impressive it would be to defeat his own kind, the best of the best, the irken elites. If he could defeat his own peers, that would prove to The Tallests that he was more capable than his own peers, _better _than his own peers. However, after smiling in silence about it for forty seconds, he abruptly changed his mind.

"I'm not a traitor! I can't fight irken soldiers!" He cried, "I _am_ an irken soldier! Their conquest, their ruin, their _snacks_!! It all runs in my veins! I can't ignore my veins, Dib!" He held out his wrists to demonstrate.

"You have veins?" Dib questioned out of the blue, ignoring Zim's frantic mood swings. He sat on the edge of what would now be his new bed, in a room that would now be his and Zim's shared quarters. The bed across from him would likely remain mostly untouched, as Zim certainly didn't need sleep aside from recovery or if for some reason he was unable to charge his PAK. The bed was made neatly, and Dib imagined it would stay that way.

"Yes, Dib, I have veins!" The little irken flailed. "Why on Irk _wouldn't_ I have veins?"

"It's just, you have a lot in common with Earth bugs," Dib explained, "Like your compound eyes, your antennae, and that fuzz that covers your skin."

"Your bugs don't have veins?" Zim asked with genuine concern. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Dib, you're not listening to me," he whined.

"I get it, you're having doubts," Dib sighed, "And yeah, if you help these people you will be a traitor, but you'll be a traitor to a race who only cares about themselves."

"That's, uh," Zim stammered, "That's a bad trait?"

"A little, yeah," Dib nodded with a sideways frown.

"Does that mean," the little irken cleared his throat and pulled at his hoodie strings, "That Zim's a bad person?" He looked up at the human with scarlet eyes squinted to match his tight frown. He prepared to purge the beginnings of this feeling, before it could grow, before it became a weakness, but-

Dib stared back at him without speaking, not sure how to respond to that. When Zim didn't let up his pained gaze, he finally sighed.

"I don't know, Zim. To human morals, you're a horrible, cruel, sadistic monster." He winced when he saw Zim flinch at his words. He quickly added, "But humans and irkens clearly don't have the same moral code. Maybe among irkens, you're-"

Dib cut himself off as Zim bit his trembling lip and his antennae shot backwards.

"Among irkens I'm weak, pathetic, incompetent," Zim spat. Dib swallowed. "Among irkens I'm soft, manipulable... Broken. Among _irkens_," he snarled, "I'm a _defect_."

They sat there in silence, Dib uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere while Zim held back the emotions that threatened to spill out of him.

It held, suspended there. It could be gone, it _should_ be gone.

Finally, Zim spoke up in a broken voice, "I'm not a good human or a good irken." Before collapsing on Dib's bed, curling up beside the human as he shook.

This thought would stay. For some reason, the old programming deemed it important.

Dib lifted his hand to make room for him, and nervously held it in the air, not wanting to move and disturb the alien anymore than he already had. He stilled even more when he pressed up beside him in what could almost be called a cuddle.

"Your an idiot," Zim said through silent tears. The idea stayed. The feeling stayed. The weakness stayed. He grabbed the human's sleeve and pulled his arm behind himself, setting his hand down on the other side of him. Dib blinked down at him.

"Dib," Zim whined, wiping his cheek with the back of his glove. He went to delete it again. Why was it still there?

"Yeah?" The human regarded softly.

He realized it was still there.

"I know I use to say irkens don't have friends, but, well," his breath stuttered and he winced, "I guess I'm not a very good irken already."

Dib snorted at that, before taking a moment to think about Zim's statement.

"Are you saying I'm your friend?" He asked cautiously, expecting the former invader to deny.

Instead, Zim pressed his forehead against his side and muttered, "I'm saying you're my *best* friend."

"I love you too, Zim," Dib whispered.

"You insolent human," Zim growled, "I did not say _love_."

"Best friends love each other, Zim," Dib explained gently, wrapping his arm more fully around his best friend, "It means you care about them and what happens to them."

"Oh," His antennae twitched, "Then I love you, too." The word tasted foreign on his tongue, but that didn't make it any less true. He didn't delete it.

He repeated the statement in Irken, which was a near impossible task, as there really was no word for love in Irken. Dib looked down at him with an eyebrow quirked.

_Yes_, he thought, consciously this time, _that one can stay._

And then he forgot making that decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, y'all remember that comic issue whatever where Dib was in some mind prison world where Zim was his brother? And Zim wore Dib's trench coat and all? Well Zim looked real badass in that jacket. So I thought, what should a rebel look like? Badass. And thus Resisty icon Zim in a black trench coat was born.


	7. The Speech

Zim stood on the raised platform, looking out over the gathering of aliens before him. They all watched him closely, waiting for him to say something. The room was stuffed full of tension, equal parts distrust and adoration. These people adored Zim because of a few misunderstandings. He didn't like it.

He lifted his hand to scratch his head. All eyes followed the movement closely.

"Um," he began, pulling at his new baggy sleeves, "So..."

A sighing Lard Nar hopped over to the ex-invader to whisper something in his antenna.

"Oh, right," Zim muttered as the captain backed away again.

"So, I'm an irken," Zim stated. Lard Nar slapped his hand to his face in defeat.

The crowd was silent. Someone in the back coughed.

"Defect," Zim added suddenly, but the word came out all funny. Why would he say that? He wasn't a defect, he was Zim! Everyone always said that, even though it wasn't true. That must have been why he said it. That would make sense. His PAK fought with the implications, his programming fought with error messages, and the the irken fought with his words.

"Apparently you all know me," He continued, trailing, "For, um, my... Attacks...? Yes, attacks! Against the Irken Empire. That were most certainly on purpose and that I definitely did."

"Just tell them what they want to hear so they don't kill you," Dib had told him earlier. He'd made Zim's options explicitly clear: He could join the resistance fully, get rid of all these doubts clogging his mind, and get back at the people who made a mockery of him his entire life. _Or_, he could trick the rebels into thinking he was on their side, only to turn on them at the last minute and save the Irken Empire from the only force that could ever threaten them.

Dib just didn't _get it_, did he?

"Obviously I don't want you to choose the second one," Dib had said with a sigh, "But it is an option, and how am I gonna know if that's the choice you're making anyway?"

"It might not be me who is making the decision, Earthworm," Zim had told him vaguely. Dib had just wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him into an awkward sideways hug.

"In the end you'll figure it out," he'd assured.

"I'm here now," Zim said, facing the shambled crew, "To, um..."

He looked around the bridge, the tension in the room prickling at the tips of his antennae. There was a distant ache in his spine and his ruby eyes met Dib's.

"I'm here now," Zim repeated, clearing his throat, "To lead you to victory, against the mighty Irken Empire."

He grimaced. Even he didn't believe himself.

The crew began mumbling amongst themselves, looking oddly to one another. Zim picked up subtle murmurs of, "_Maybe it's the wrong guy?_" "_Of course he's the right guy, he's just tricking us,_" "_Why are we trusting an irken anyway?_" and "_They say when an irken's PAK stops working right, they go crazy. His PAK's so broken that-_"

"_ENOUGH_," Zim snapped, killing the quiet conversations in an instant, "You don't want to trust me? Fine. Honestly, you probably shouldn't. I am not the hero you think I am. Everything I am is telling me to do everything I can to sabotage this ship and destroy everything it stands for."

Wide eyes fell on the irken. Dib surged toward him, ready to whisk him off the bridge before things could get bad. Zim whipped around and hissed at the human as he neared, causing him to shrink back.

"The reason you are all still alive," Zim spat, "Is because I have let you live this long. I could just self destruct and be gone with this entire threat for good," he breathed deeply, almost shakily, and continued, "But I want to live freely as much as you do. And until the Irken Empire is no longer a threat to me, I can't do that."

Lard Nar crept defensively toward the irken. Zim ignored him.

"So you are going to help me, and I am going to help you," Zim finished, "Maybe, when I get what I want, I won't look at you all and see nothing but a bunch of filthy ungrateful smeets, but we will just have to wait and find out."

Then he promply spun on his heals, marched down the steps and exited out the door. His movements were precise, sharp, and prestigious. Just like an irken soldier.

"That was... a good speech," Dib told him reluctantly after running out after him.

"What speech?" Zim asked, quirking an eyebrow. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he marched down the corridor.

"The one you..." Dib began, "Just made? All threats and... It was kinda badass, actually." Dib trailed off, suddenly remembering the vague things his friend had said. "Is there something you want to talk about?" He asked, concerned.

"What are you talking about?" Zim sneered.

"You literally just made a speech!" Dib exclaimed, "You know? You were all 'I could self destruct and destroy you all,' and 'We're gonna destroy the Irken Empire, rawr,' and etcetera etcetera." He recited Zim's words with a weird accent, his voice lowered an octave for no known reason.

Zim stopped walking to stare at the human. "Stop making up lies, Earthworm," he said after a delay, "And I do not sound like that, anyway."

"What's wrong?" Dib prodded, eliciting a low growl out of the irken as he continued his stroll, "You don't just do something like that and then forget about it."

"Dib, I really need you to stop that right now," Zim warned, his fingers flexing.

The teenager continued to go over the finer parts of Zim's address until the irken began shaking.

"Cool speech, weirdo," Gaz praised as she walked by and then past the pair. At that, Zim let out a pained shout and crumpled to the floor.

"Zim?" Dib jumped, crouching beside the alien, "What happened?"

Gaz backtracked at the sound. "Did I break him?" She asked with an eyebrow raised. Zim only twitched in response. A dying fly was the image that came to Dib's mind.

"Go get the doctor," Dib demanded. Then he paused, glancing up at his sister. "Is there a doctor on this ship?"

"Seven's in charge of the medical bay," Gaz said.

"I thought he was an engineer!" Dib shouted.

"He is," Gaz shrugged.

"We'll go get Seven!"

"Don't," Zim croaked, grabbing a fistful of Dib's sleeve to hoist himself into a sitting position. "I'm fine," he growled as he stumbled hastily to his feet, "I need to use your primitive Earth computer."

"Why do you-" Dib began, cut off by a quaking that rattled through the entire ship. He was knocked to the ground just as he got up. Zim yanked him back to his feet with surprising strength. "What was that?" He asked through his dizziness.

The halls flooded with crew members, all rushing to their own designated parts of the ship as an alarm trilled out a warning.

Zim and Dib rushed back to the bridge.

"What's going on?" Dib demanded. The previous crowd had thinned and everyone left on the bridge was occupied with some sort of job.

Lard Nar began to explain, but Zim took one look out the enormous, wrapping window and cut him off with ease, "That's a Galaxy Skipper, model TK-7," he paused, something within his PAK whirring, "15 personnel. It's a scout, so they have the best shielding technology. They're fast, hard to hit. And they're being backed by a cloaked Ambusher. That's what's attacking us."

If he could focus solely on the information and nothing else, it wouldn't alert his loyalty function, and nothing would hurt.

Everyone just stared at him.

"Oh my Tallest," he groaned, tugging on his antennae. Then he shoved a razzed plookesian away from helms control and fired lasers at the cloaked Ambusher.

The red battleship came into view as it recovered from the direct hit, then it took off darting nimbly around the bigger vortian ship, sending strike after strike into the shields. Zim had a memory of his cadet days, battling simulated ships as both training and entertainment.

"How did you know that was there?" The vortian captain asked with bewilderment as the floor started to shake.

"We're under attack!" Cried a triangular alien, the species of which Zim was strangely unfamiliar with.

He jerked the ship to the right as the scout took off. He cursed in Irken, then hissed a command in the same language. When his order wasn't carried out, he glanced up at the rebels, who were all watching him with that same wide-eyed expression.

"You heard me!" He shouted in Vortian. Everyone jumped back to work.

They _had_ heard him. Understanding Irken was a key survival skill in this sector of the galaxy. With hesitance, the SF drive was activated, and they caught up easily with the Galaxy Skipper.

He fired shots off at the scout, every pulse of green light deflecting off of the invisible energy fields. It flashed pink with every hit, hardly even disorienting the ship.

He hopped to his feet and shoved the plookesian back in the helms seat, then he launched himself onto the raised level with his PAK legs.

"I need a scan of that ship _now_," Zim demanded, naturally slipping into his native language again.

"You don't get to come aboard and just start ordering _my_ crew around," Lard Nar snarled, hopping up from his seat, "Especially in _that_ language!"

"He knows what he's doing, damnit!" Dib defended, "Just do the scan!"

Zim's eyes met the vortian's deep green ones and suddenly it wasn't a training simulation anymore.

He took one more glance out the window, eyes landing on the sharp black logo painted on the ruby-red ship, before he collapsed on the ground.


	8. Deterioration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my writing app I can give each folder its own icon and the icon for this fic is a pizza. I just think it's important you know that.

Zim woke with a scream, draped across a twin-sized mattress tucked with gray sheets. He squirmed in pain, but now that he was conscious, his program did its job and the shocks began to fade to tiny, unnoticeable pulses.

When he got his gasping breaths back under control, he felt something heavy plop into his lap. He sat up to find it was a compact silver laptop with a blue sticker shaped something like an eyeball on the back of it. He looked up.

"You said you needed my computer," Dib shrugged, "Not sure why, though. The ship has a built in computer system."

"Vortian technology," Zim managed with a hiss, waving his hand as he spoke, "Not compatible with irken tech. Your pitiful Earth technology _is_." He opened the laptop and watched the screen light up.

"But vortians literally made most of irken technology," Dib countered, confused.

"They made their own computer systems purposely not compatable," Zim scoffed, staring at the lit screen. The background was some blurry photo of a cryptid Zim couldn't remember the name of. Nor did he care. "They thought it would hinder us. As if they could do anything to weaken the glory of the Irken Empire." 

"Okay," Dib said, "Did you actually need my laptop for anything or-"

Zim shoved him aside as he hopped off the bed. He placed the laptop on a desk-like slab of metal that extended from the wall and hunched over it.

Dib watched in awe as a metal cord extended from the irken's PAK, loose wires frayed out at the end. Zim positioned the cord inches from the computer's USB port, and the wires shot out to connect with the laptop. His eyes lit up with a red light as they stared blankly at the screen.

"Hey!" Dib said as sparks began to fly from the connection, "If you break my laptop I swear-"

Zim reached a hand behind himself and hit a switch. His PAK fell off his back with a _thunk_ and the light emanating from his eyes faded and they refocused back into something more lively.

Dib jumped backwards as the device clattered on the ground. "What the hell Zim??" He shouted with panic.

"Shut up, dirt filth," Zim hissed as his PAK floated up and landed softly on the desk.

"That's redundant," Dib pointed out, crossing his arms.

"I said shut up!"

Zim typed furiously at the keys, but the letters that showed up on Dib's computer screen were not the letters depicted on the keys that graceful claws effortlessly glided over.

Dib's recognized them as Irken symbols, but he couldn't read it even with the translator Zim had programmed into his glasses a few years back. In retrospect, the translator was hardly refined. Just another project Zim had started and abandoned. He could hardly read _any_ Irken with them, anyway.

After a few short minutes, Zim disconnected his PAK from the laptop and reconnected it to his back. Then he sat up, stretched, and closed the laptop.

"Thanks," he said, but he had already forgotten what for.

His program deteriorated every so often. That was the PAK's natural safeguards at work. He had it set up that whenever this began to happen, it would give him more conscious awareness as to what his PAK was doing, which would give him the conscious awareness that he had to fix it, which would give him the conscious awareness that everything he knew was a lie.

It didn't usually deteriorate that quickly, it rarely ever got to the point of activating the punishment function. But that was fine. He could work around it. He wasn't going to let some measly little coding error get in the way of this justice he so deserved.

He had added another function to the old override program, one that allowed him to keep certain memories of things he had done, but hide just certain details of the events. He did so mindlessly, completely unaware as to why he needed to do such a thing, and completely aware that it was something he had to do. It was funny how his primitive subconscious knew better than refined irken technology.

"Did you get the scout?" Zim demanded suddenly, everything coming into focusing again as his meat brain reconnected with his mechanical one.

"No, it's gone. So is the Ambusher," Dib assured.

Zim hissed and punched his human friend in the arm. This was bad, very bad. "You flirking idiot!" He snapped as Dib rubbed at his bruised arm, "Now they'll know where we are! Now they _all_ will know what we're trying to do!!"

_Who, exactly?_ he asked himself. His memory bank flashed back, _Hostile entity. Major threat to existence. Detrimental technology. Identity unknown._

* * *

"Zim," Lard Nar waved the irken down as they passed each other by in the corridor, "Hey, can we talk?"

Zim eyed the vortian suspiciously, baring his teeth. But he forced himself to relax and said calmly, "Sure."

The captain lead the invader down to his office nestled right beside the bridge. It was warm, decorated blue and gray with cushiony green seats and a shiny metal desk. Lard Nar took the seat behind the desk and gestured for Zim to sit in front of it.

He did so slowly, without taking his eyes off of the vortian rebel. A thought crossed his mind about what a vortian was doing free from prison or enslavement from the Irken Empire. He realized he needed to report this rebel, not help him. He was halfway through devising a plan to take over the ship and deliver these would be prisoners back into irken control when he forgot the very idea that had lead him to create this plan, then forgot the plan as well.

At least his program was doing its job again.

He forgot thinking that.

"Zim," Lard Nar scrutinized the irken from above where his fingers were set against each other with his hands propped up on his desk. Zim scowled instinctively.

"This is going to be hard," Lard Nar admitted with a sigh as he looked down at his reflection in the metal of the table. "We are both accustom to being in positions of leadership."

"True," Zim agreed, nodding as he put his own fingers together. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to be the one in charge of this conversation. "The difference is that I am better at it than you."

Lard Nar threw his head back, laughing loudly.

"What is it that you find amusing?" Zim snarled, grabbing the metal armrests of his seat and scraping his claws against it.

"It's just," Lard Nar snorted, lifting his goggles up to wipe a tear from his beady green eye, "You're so much like an irken."

"I am an irken," Zim said blandly, eyes still narrowed hostilely.

"Well, right, of course," Lard Nar said, "I just thought you'd be a little _less_ irken than the rest of them."

"Why is that?"

"My point is," Lard Nar said, tossing them both back on topic, "I wanted to thank you for your help on the bridge. I'm not certain what caused your... Lightheadedness, but before you went down for the count, you really saved our asses out there."

Zim leaned back in his seat, claws relaxing on the armrests. "But you doomed yourself," he said.

Lard Nar nodded. "I realized after we broke the chase that you had called it a scout," he said forlornly, "I assume they will report our position back home?"

Zim nodded tersely. "I could have taken it down. I just needed those scans."

Lard Nar nodded back. "I will not doubt your requests in the future," he said.

"Is that all?" Zim asked him, sitting up like he were preparing to leave. The vortian shook his head.

"I would like to ask for a favor."

Zim cocked his head, looking at the rebel captain curiously.

"You've had professional training," Lard Nar told him as if he didn't already know, "_Elite_ training."

"Yes," Zim said slowly, still not following.

Lard Nar sighed. The two were the same height, but Zim noticed with amusement that the vortian's chair was nearly half a foot taller than the one Zim sat in. It allowed him to look down at Zim like he were the one in power, yet his eyes, still goggle free from when he had previously removed them, were pleading as he spoke.

Will you train my crew?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats, you people's persistence on why Seven is so friendly with Zim is the main reason I picked this fic up again. I promise, these things will be resolved. I just kinda... Got attached to Gashloog for a minute and I forgot this fic existed.
> 
> Also! Since you all seem so fond of Captain Zim, you should go read my new fic, [Star to Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374725/chapters/50916505). Honestly, I've been nursing that one for months now and it's the most refined, longest thing that I've ever written. It doesn't have the Resisty crew in it, but it's got Gashloog!


End file.
